SparkNotes: Rebecca: Characters SparkNotes Summary Chapters 1-4 The Heroine - The novel's protagonist and narrator; we never learn her given name. A shy, self-conscious young woman from a lower-middle class background, she begins the novel as a paid companion to Mrs. Van Hopper, a wealthy American woman. In Monte Carlo, she meets and marries the older, wealthy Maxim de Winter, and becomes "Mrs. De Winter," mistress of Manderley. Maxim de Winter - A cultured, intelligent older man, and the owner of Manderley, a prized estate and mansion on the English coast. When the novel begins, he has recently lost his beautiful, accomplished wife, Rebecca, in what the world believes was a tragic drowning. In fact, however, he killed her himself. Rebecca - In life, Rebecca was the beautiful, much-loved, accomplished wife of Maxim de Winter, and the mistress of Manderley. Now a ghost, she haunts the mansion, and her presence torments the heroine after her marriage to Maxim. Mrs. Danvers - The sinister housekeeper at Manderley. She was fiercely devoted to Rebecca, and remains devoted to her even after death.

She despises the heroine for taking her mistress's place. Jack Favell - Rebecca's cousin. Lacking integrity and given to alcoholic behavior, he was Rebecca's lover while she was married to Maxim. Frank Crawley - Maxim's kind, loyal overseer at Manderley, he befriends the heroine almost immediately. Beatrice - Maxim's sister. A friendly, outgoing woman with a passion for horses. Mrs. Van Hopper - A vulgar, gossipy and wealthy American woman. She employs the heroine as a companion while she travels from one European resort town to another. Ben - A harmless man, mildly retarded, who spends much of his time on the beach near Manderley. Colonel Julyan - The local magistrate in the region surrounding Manderley Lady Crowan - A local noblewoman who suggests that Maxim and the heroine revive the tradition of holding an annual costume ball at Manderley. Baker - A London doctor who saw Rebecca the day of her death Frith - The butler at Manderley Clarice - The heroine's maid Rebecca Characters | GradeSaver Buy Study Guide The Narrator Maxim De Winter's second wife and the narrator of the novel. The narrator works as Mrs.

Van Hopper's paid companion in Monte Carlo until meeting Maxim and agreeing to marry him. Unsophisticated and timid, the narrator is insecure about her role as the mistress of Manderley and is overwhelmed by the constant reminder of Rebecca in the estate. As the novel progresses, the narrator becomes increasingly preoccupied with Rebecca and ultimately concludes that Maxim is still in love with her. After Maxim confesses the truth to her, the narrator is suddenly free from Rebecca's shadow and can assume her true role as mistress of the house and Maxim's wife. Maxim de Winter The intelligent and cultured owner of Manderley. At first, Maxim is a mystery, seemingly tormented by the memory of his first wife. He dislikes talking about Rebecca and increasingly detaches himself from his new wife, leading the narrator to believe that he is still in love with Rebecca. After Rebecca's boat is found on the bay, Maxim confesses the truth to the narrator: his marriage to Rebecca was a facade, and he despised her so much that he murdered her in a fit of rage. In the end, Maxim realized that Rebecca manipulated him into killing her so that she would not have to die slowly of cancer.

Rebecca de Winter Maxim's first wife and the beautiful mistress of Manderley. Lauded for her beauty, sophistication, and elegance, Rebecca seems to be the superior to the narrator in every way. Even Maxim asserts that all of Manderley's beauty is due to Rebecca's taste and influence. The narrator concludes that Maxim is still in love with Rebecca and is tormented by her presence in everything at Manderley. Eventually, it is revealed that Rebecca was an evil woman who committed unspeakable atrocities under the guise of her grace and beauty. Mrs. Danvers Rebecca's maid and the housekeeper of Manderley. Mrs. Danvers accompanied Rebecca to Manderley after her marriage and continues to run the estate in the same way that she did when Rebecca was alive. Over the course of the novel, Mrs. Danvers reveals an unhealthy obsession with Rebecca and a determination to punish the narrator for taking her place. She takes every opportunity to undermine the narrator and remind her of her inferiority to Rebecca, convincing her to dress as Caroline De Winter for the costume ball and even urging her to kill herself by jumping out of the window. Like Jack Favell, Mrs.

Danvers suspects that Maxim was involved in Rebecca's death and ultimately sets Manderley on fire. Jack Favell Rebecca's cousin and lover. The narrator first meets Favell at Manderley during Maxim's absence and is put off by his bold manner and suggestive remarks. After Rebecca's body is discovered, Favell contends that Maxim murdered her and attempts to prove that they were planning to run away together. He brings in Ben as a witness, displays a note from Rebecca, and prompts the trip to London to interview Dr. Baker. After Dr. Baker seems to confirm the coroner's findings, Favell returns to Manderley and presumably sets the estate on fire with Mrs. Danvers. Beatrice Lacy Maxim's sister. Athletic and outspoken, Beatrice initially intimidates the narrator but eventually becomes more supportive. She gives the narrator a set of beautiful art books as a wedding present, takes her to visit Maxim's grandmother, and comforts her after the disaster of the costume ball. Her comment, "You are so very different from Rebecca," is one of the first times that the narrator is directly compared to Maxim's first wife. Mrs.

Van Hopper A wealthy and gossipy American woman who hires the narrator as a "companion" for her European travels. During their time at Monte Carlo, Mrs. Van Hopper introduces herself to Maxim and inadvertently prompts the friendship between Maxim and the narrator. After hearing about the narrator's engagement, Mrs. Van Hopper raises the first doubts in her mind with the warning, "Personally, I think you are making a big mistake--one that you will bitterly regret." Frank Crawley The overseer of Manderley. Known for his loyalty and tact, Frank is one of the narrator's sole friends on the estate and assures her that she is what Maxim needs. However, he is reticent to discuss Rebecca except to comment on her great beauty, and the narrator concludes that he was just as much in love with Rebecca as everyone else. Later on, it is revealed that Frank almost quit his job at Manderley because of Rebecca's constant attempts to seduce him. The narrator suspects that Frank also knew that Maxim had killed Rebecca. Ben A mildly retarded man who lives on the Manderley estate.

He witnesses Rebecca having an affair with Jack Favell, but he denies it when interviewed by Colonel Julyan because he fears that Rebecca will fulfill her promise to send him to an asylum. Ben is the only character to describe Rebecca in a negative light from the very beginning of the book. Colonel Julyan The local magistrate who investigates Rebecca's death. Colonel Julyan dines with Maxim and the narrator and is unwilling to accept Jack Favell's accusation that Maxim murdered Rebecca. He accompanies them to meet with Dr. Baker and ultimately concludes that Rebecca did commit suicide. Dr. Baker A physician in London who had an appointment with Rebecca on the day of her death. Dr. Baker informs Maxim and Colonel Julyan that Rebecca was infertile and had only a few months left to live when she died. His testimony supports the coroner's assertion that Rebecca killed herself. Jasper One of Maxim's pet cocker spaniels and the narrator's favorite. Jasper leads the narrator to Rebecca's cottage on the beach.

Frith Fictional Characters and Fragrance: Max de Winter of Rebecca + Draw | Cafleurebon - Perfume and Beauty Blog Fictional Characters and Fragrance: Max de Winter of Rebecca + Draw I read a post on Face Book "This Week is National Book Week pick up the book closest to you, turn to page 57 and write the 1st sentence in the 5th paragraph in your status. Face Book is stranger than fiction sometimes. National Book Week, (actually called National Library Week) is April 3-10, 2011. But every day is a good day to read a favorite book and wear a favorite perfume. Fiction and fragrance open our imagination to new worlds and connect us no matter where we live. " I wish there could have been an invention that bottled up a memory like perfume and it never faded never got stale.

Then whenever I wanted to I could uncork that bottle and live the memory all over again", is one of the most famous perfume quotes; it originates from one of my favorite books (and movies; this 1940 Academy Award winner was Alfred Hitchcock’s American directorial debut starring Laurence Olivier as Maxim de Winter and Joan Fontaine as his much younger second wife), Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. Ah, Daphne du Maurier – the queen of the 1930's gothic novel. This is my third reading of Rebecca, and it was every bit as deliciously dramatic as the first time around. Set in Cornwall, England in an expansive country manor known as Manderley, Rebecca is told by a nameless first person narrator, who leaves her lowly job as a paid companion to marry the eccentric and recently widowed Max de Winter, the owner of Manderley. After a wonderful honeymoon, they return to his estate, Manderley. Joseph Mallard Williams Turner, Two Women and a Letter Ah yes. The Narrator meets one of the most insane characters of all time, the creepy Ms. Danvers, who casts her malicious spell over her throughout the book.

Her marriage's happiness is shrouded in shadows. The narrator discovers that Manderley is a shrine to Maxim’s first wife, Rebecca de Winter — her perfume, her clothing, her impeccable style; Rebecca’s larger-than-life ghost torments the narrator into a state of ultimate despair. Joan Fontaine as Rebecca , Judith Anderson as Mrs. Danvers Spoiler quote by Mrs. Danvers: “Sometimes, I wonder if she doesn't come back here to Manderley, to watch you and Mr. de Winter together. You look tired. Why don't you stay here a while and rest, and listen to the sea? It's so soothing. Listen to it.” Sir Laurence Olivier as Max de Winter In my opinion, Max de Winter is the most fascinating character in the book. The scent of secrecy: Sel a Vetiver . Celine Ellena’s second solo fragrance (Jasmine de Nuit was her first) for The Different Company and it is a unique variation on the classic masculine vetiver. Joseph Mallard Williams Turner, Peace Burial at Sea The scent opens with a sharp citrus accord, and then settles into the richness of the vetiver root; roots dipped in sea salt.

The deepness and earthiness of the vetiver drowns in a pool of sea water. I could find no more fitting fragrance for Maxim de Winter. Twisted plots? (We only have to look at the recent changes at The Different Company) –Michelyn Camen, Editor-In-Chief The draw is for five samples to one winner of Sel a Vetiver. To be eligible for leave a comment on your favorite book and the fragrance you would choose for him/her/it (i.e a Robot from Asimov), Your favorite perfume from TDC or what you believe was the scent of Rebecca. Joseph Mallard Williams Turner, Lady in a Black Dress Editor's Note:The book was written in 1938 but is retrospective and set some time ago. The exact year the novel is set, much like the first name of its lead character, remains a mystery. I chose the artwork of British painter Joseph Mallard Williams Turner (23 April 1775–19 December 1851), because in my imagination the novel took place at this time. .

Rebecca: Daphne Du Maurier: Amazon.com: Books Daphne du Maurier Page 1 of 1 Start over Sponsored Products are advertisements for products sold by merchants on Amazon.com. When you click on a Sponsored Product ad, you will be taken to an Amazon detail page where you can learn more about the product and purchase it. To learn more about Amazon Sponsored Products, click here . Eternal Night (Aeternae Noctis Book 1) Jade Kerrion Award-winning fantasy. A vampire queen terrorizes a town trapped in eternal night. Her reborn lover defies his humanity to unravel her Great Lie. Carnival Tricks (Double Helix Case Files Book 1) Jade Kerrion If you're not as special as everyone thinks you are, how do you save yourself...and the world? Award-winning futuristic thriller. Editorial Reviews From Library Journal Surely no audiobook collection should be without some version of this timeless classic, arguably the most famous and well-loved gothic novel of the 20th century, and this production would be an excellent choice. Read in wonderfully British cadences by Anna Massey, all the mysterious and oppressive nuances are made immediate and chilling.

We even feel some sympathy for the absurdly timid and cowering heroine; it is, after all, easy to imagine feeling woefully inferior to the predecessor and desperately eager to please. Of course the story requires great leaps of credulity... Forget the movie; it makes mincemeat of the actual tale. A wise seven-year-old once told me, "The book is always betterDit goes right into your head." This is a prime exampleDlisten again; it gets even better. Highly recommended.DHarriet Edwards, East Meadow P.L., NY Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Read more Review Rebecca is a novel of mystery and passion, a dark psychological tale of secrets and betrayal, dead loves and an estate called Manderley that is as much a presence as the humans who inhabit it: "when the leaves rustle, they sound very much like the stealthy movement of a woman in evening dress, and when they shiver suddenly and fall, and scatter away along the ground, they might be the pitter, patter of a woman's hurrying footsteps, and the mark in the gravel the imprint of a high-heeled satin shoe." Manderley is filled with memories of the elegant and flamboyant Rebecca, the first Mrs. DeWinter; with the obsessive love of her housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, who observes the young, timid second Mrs. DeWinter with sullen hostility; and with the oppressive silences of a secretive husband, Maxim. Rebecca may be physically dead, but she is a force to contend with, and the housekeeper's evil matches that of her former mistress as a purveyor of the emotional horror thrust on the innocent Mrs. DeWinter. The tension builds as the new Mrs. DeWinter slowly grows and asserts herself, surviving the wicked deceptions of Mrs.

Danvers and the silent deceits of her husband, to emerge triumphant in the midst of a surprise ending that leaves the reader with a sense of haunting justice. -- For great reviews of books for girls, check out Let's Hear It for the Girls: 375 Great Books for Readers 2-14 . -- From 500 Great Books by Women ; review by Vickie Sears Don't have a Kindle? Get your Kindle here , or download a FREE Kindle Reading App . New York Times best sellers Browse the New York Times best sellers in popular categories like Fiction, Nonfiction, Picture Books and more. See more Product Details Publisher: The Sun Dial Press (1941) Language: English Product Dimensions: 9.1 x 6.6 x 1.1 inches Shipping Weight: 1.6 pounds By P. M. Scogin on January 9, 2014 Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase I just spent 4.99 of my holiday gift on this book and for me that's probably equivalent to you dropping a 100 on a purse or tech gadget. Totally hoard my book allowance for my 'wish list' that is checked regularly for price drops.

But can not wait any longer for this one to get discounted anymore than this - ever since it FINALLY became available in ebook form, I have coveted it mightily!! And want others who haven't to read it - some popular fiction is timeless and I think this is a good example. I read scifi, dark Icelandic/Scandanavian mysteries, thrillers, dark horror, British village mysteries, urban fantasy - if it's a good book, I'll read it. Rebecca is a GOOD book. A superb dark mystery, a shining example of what a good gothic can be, and again, a good old fashioned excellent read. One of the positive aspects of having parents who were old enough to be my grandparents - both my parents were born at the beginning of the 20th century - they were both readers from a time when books were read by everyone (or someone read it to you) on par with the way we watch tv shows or online podcasts. They turned me on to some plain old good reads - timeless stories, well written, well researched when needed - tales that picked you up and swept you along until they set you back down with "the end".

Rebecca, Something of Value, The Devil's Advocate, Main Street, Tobacco Road, Gone With the Wind, Dragonwyck, The Good Earth, and I could go on and on - and whether you are female or male, if you enjoy a well written story that takes you on a wild ride that sneaks up on you and keeps you on the edge of your seat - read this book! By Teddie S. on July 6, 2016 Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase I loved this book. I loved the mood that was set early on, and the suspense that kept building right up to the final chapter. This book was first published in 1938, and it definitely withstands the test of time. The narrator, a young woman who makes her living as a paid companion, meets and falls in love with a wealthy middle-aged widow named Maxim de Winter. He is both dashing and a bit mysterious. She can't believe her good fortune when he asks her to marry him. After a honeymoon, the new Mrs. de Winter moves into the beautiful estate called Manderly. She should be on top of the world, but instead feels totally overshadowed by the first Mrs.

de Winter, who died in a tragic drowning accident. It seems her husband's first wife was beautiful, vivacious, and loved by everyone. But not all is as it seems. There are several twists and turns in the book that keep the reader turning the pages. I enthusiastically give this book five stars. By Zuri on November 23, 2014 Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase I read "Rebecca" ages ago when I was a teen, and probably just skimmed it through, as English is not my home language. I have now reread it, and I must admit I do not know why it is still in print! To be honest: it's a good story, well told. But gee, it's showing its age. The writing style is stilted, and the characters are cardboard cut-outs. The female narrator (never named) is a colorless, bland person (or so it seems), and what most bothered me in the the first two-thirds of the tale was the unnatural, sometimes one-syllable , way in which the narrator and Max/Maxim and others communicated. Where a full-sentence answer was needed the narrator usually simply said "yes" or "no".

I felt like kicking her backside. There is also no real mention of love (as in sharing a bed!) in the tale. (No, I did not expect sexy scenes, but it seems as if Max merely married Ms Unknown as a crutch, not a lover). The pace picks up towards the end, but to me (I hate to be a spoiler but the book was published in 1938) the reason for the murder was vague, to say the least. Everyone seemed to "adore" Rebecca except her husband. As were the morals of the time, the hard and fast reasons why he disliked or hated her are not made clear and has to be guessed by the reader. I felt frustrated. If a person is really mean and nasty, it would not only be the husband who knows it!! Then, surely, other people must have picked up on her bad character as well! Mrs. Danvers, who is supposed to be the villain in the tale, is also a dark horse. Did she, or didn't she .... ? And in the end we have no idea why the De Winter couple seems to be "exiled" from England.

I found the famous story, on 2nd reading after several decades, overrated, and the characters flat and not even very likable. By planosue on August 19, 2016 Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase This is a classic book that I've had on my "to read" list for a long time. I don't usually read novels in this genre (romance). But this book offers more than romance... it is also a murder mystery. I understand Alfred Hitchcock made this into a movie many years ago but I did not see it. Therefore, i was unaware of the story's plot and how it unfolds. du Maurier does a fine job with this as "mystery".. I especially liked how the protagonist/ narrarator (the second Mrs. DeWinter) is revealed, first as a timid & self-effacing woman who over time finds her stride as the second Mrs. DeWinter and as the mistress of Manderley, the country estate of her husband Maxim deWinter. du Maurier's choice not to give the second Mrs. DeWinter a first name is an intriguing aspect of the story... and underscores the feelings of worthlessness experienced by the second Mrs. deWinter.

A main source for these feelings is the perception that the first Mrs. deWinter (Rebecca) excelled in many things (famous beauty, devoted wife & perfect hostess) that the second Mrs. deWinter could not live up to. As the story unfolds, it is clear that Rebecca was not, indeed, as perceived, I gave this 4 stars ... I do like it. But I can't say I loved it. (And there are many other fictions that I have indeed loved.) Daphne du Maurier always said her novel Rebecca was a study in jealousy - Telegraph Books Daphne du Maurier always said her novel Rebecca was a study in jealousy Seventy-five years after Daphne du Maurier published 'Rebecca’, her son tells Christian House how the author’s own torrid life inspired this enduring story The seed of the Rebecca story lay in Daphne du Maurier's jealousy of her husband's first fiancee Photo: REX By Christian House Comments 'Very roughly, the book will be about the influence of a first wife on a second,” wrote Daphne du Maurier in her notes. “Until wife 2 is haunted day and night… a tragedy is looming very close and crash! Bang!

Something happens.” Seventy-five years ago this month, Rebecca was published, and readers flooded bookshops to discover the dark nature of that “something”. The novel was to be du Maurier’s masterpiece and a classic of 20th-century fiction that continues to enthral today. “It goes on and it goes on,” says Kits Browning, du Maurier’s son, leaning back in his sofa at Ferryside, the house in Fowey, in Cornwall, that has been in the du Maurier family since the Twenties. “It’s the old cliché. It’s a bloody good story. And it still sells more than any of her other books.” An impressive 4,000 a month, by the reckoning of its publishers Virago, and it has never been out of print. A film-maker and photographer by profession, Browning first read it “more in visual terms” but has re-read it many times, and “I always find different things about it”. With his matinee-idol wave of hair and yacht-club bonhomie, at 72, Browning retains a jovial manner.

Ferryside, perched on the Fowey estuary, was once part of a boatyard, and as we discuss the legacy of Rebecca, boat horns and the scream of gulls echo in from the water. Related Articles Growing up in the house that inspired 'Rebecca' 26 Apr 2013 It was to this house that Daphne du Maurier returned in 1937 from Egypt, where her husband, Major Tommy “Boy” Browning, commanding officer of the Second Battalion, Grenadier Guards, was stationed in Alexandria. It was in Egypt that she had sketched out the story of Rebecca; in Ferryside, she got down to serious writing, surrounded by the squalls and sails that feature in the doom-laden narrative. The novel’s nameless young narrator is perplexed by her volatile new husband, Maxim de Winter, the rich owner of the grand Cornish estate, Manderley.

Maxim is the kind of charmer who proposes by snapping: “I’m asking you to marry me, you little fool.” His first wife, the glorious but perhaps malevolent Rebecca, drowned in a sailing accident, but her spirit remains, infused in the masonry of Manderley and the seething glare of its housekeeper, Mrs Danvers. In August 1938, Rebecca caught the zeitgeist, drawing on the glamour of country society and the feeling of impending catastrophe that permeated the pre-war years. Put coarsely, it is a novel about a dead woman and a house. Both of which were drawn from the author’s life. “Mum used to get fed up talking about it,” says Browning. “She did get so irritated with people calling it a romantic novel. Because she always said it was a study in jealousy.” The seed of the story lay in du Maurier’s jealousy of Jan Ricardo, the first fiancée of her husband. “I know that she came across one or two letters or cards, fairly sort of harmless things, where Jan did sign 'Jan Ricardo’ with this wonderful great R,” says Browning, flourishing his hand in the air.

It is a portentous curlicue that is emulated in the book. “The name Rebecca,” wrote du Maurier, “stood out black and strong, the tall and sloping R dwarfing the other letters.” Ricardo later threw herself under a train, although not, Browning says, due to his parents’ marriage. Still, it is said that Daphne was haunted by the suspicion that her husband remained attracted to Ricardo. Manderley was based on Milton Hall in Cambridgeshire, which du Maurier visited in her youth, but she placed it in the setting of Menabilly, the home she leased, hidden away in the woods by the Gribbin Head outside Fowey, and where the family moved after Ferryside. “She always had this thing that places were more important than people,” explains Browning; and, indeed, while she was in Egypt, she had confessed to missing the then-abandoned house of Menabilly more than her two children (Kits had yet to be born). It was at Milton Hall that she conceived of Mrs Danvers. “She saw this tall, dark housekeeper woman.

They were always called Mrs, even if they weren’t married, like Mrs Hudson in Sherlock Holmes,” says Browning. “That’s where she first saw this terribly sinister-looking lady. I don’t think she ever spoke to her, it was just a look that sunk in.” Manderley, like Hogwarts and Brideshead, is a name fixed in our imagination. Yet the anonymity of the novel’s narrator continues to intrigue. “She couldn’t think what to call her and so she didn’t call her anything. And then it became a challenge: could she actually write the whole thing without it,” says Browning. “Funnily enough, in the Hitchcock film, in the script she is written as 'I’, but they all called her 'Daphne’ on the shoot.” Both Mrs de Winters were drawn from du Maurier’s own character. “I always identified Mum with the second, rather timid one,” says Browning. “It was totally split, because she was just as good as Rebecca at the sailing and all that toughness.” And what about Rebecca’s cruel streak; did she possess that? “No. But, there again, who says it was cruelty? It’s Maxim’s version, isn’t it?

There’s so much in that book, you know. Was he lying? Why is it that everybody else thought the sun shone out of her a---? There’s never a bad word about Rebecca except from Max. That’s why it runs and runs.” Laurence Olivier immortalised the moody figure of Maxim in Alfred Hitchcock’s Oscar-winning 1940 film. “Mum loved it. She thought it was great.” Olivier had originally wanted to play opposite Vivien Leigh, “but it would be ridiculous because if Vivien Leigh played the second Mrs de Winter, she’d have fired Mrs Danvers on the first morning,” chuckles Browning. Instead, Joan Fontaine excelled as the naïve innocent caught in Mrs Danvers’s sights. Born in London in 1907, into a wealthy family, Daphne was the second of three daughters. A tomboy – and her actor father’s favourite – she preferred visiting Ferryside, the family’s remote holiday home, to participating in London society. She married the charismatic Boy Browning, who later became Prince Philip’s treasurer, after a three-month courtship when she was 25 and he 35.

One of the du Maurier sisters had first spotted the handsome Browning sailing his boat in Fowey harbour; he had actually set out there after reading du Maurier’s first novel, The Loving Spirit, falling in love with her graphic descriptions of the Cornish coastline. Their marriage was stable, despite infidelities on both sides, and they went on to have three children: Tessa, Flavia and Christian (known as “Kits”). It was quite clear that Kits was her favourite, and she doted on him. Biographers have described her as an aloof mother, especially towards her daughters, and nannies and housekeepers were employed to occupy them as she wrote. Du Maurier has also been described as something of a recluse, shunning publicity and social invitations. Yet Kits remembers her as being funny and warm. “As a mother and as a grandmother to our kids, she was the most wonderful and easy-going person, who’d join in and play cricket or football with the kids and all that. She wasn’t at all aloof. But she was very fond of her privacy.” The novel has repeatedly been adapted for stage and screen, with du Maurier herself writing the first theatrical treatment.

As his mother’s literary executor following her death in 1989, Browning has been pivotal in their promotion. “Since the original film, I’ve been involved in so many touring plays of it,” with a range of actors playing Maxim. “Simon Williams. He was so good. And Nigel Havers, of course. The production they did three or four years ago did fantastically well. He does bring ’em in.” Her estate, he admits, has a responsibility to the reputation of the book. Two well-received incidental novels have been authorised – Susan Hill’s Mrs de Winter and Sally Beauman’s Rebecca’s Tale. And one of Browning’s three sons, Ned, has designed a collection of Swiss-made du Maurier watches – the Maxim for men, the Rebecca for ladies – following the lead of his dapper great-grandfather, the thespian Gerald du Maurier, who launched a brand of du Maurier cork-tipped cigarettes. There has even been Rebecca: The Musical, which had a three-year run in Vienna before moving to Japan, Germany, South Korea and Sweden. “It is absolutely fantastic as a spectacle. Almost as Mrs Danvers comes to the top of the stairs, there’s a sort of 'boo’.

It’s like pantomime,” says Browning. What, I wonder, might his mother have made of it? “I think she’d be delighted. It’s a very gothic version.” So what’s next for this classic? Well, Browning announces, “we’re coming full circle with it because we’re just about to sign an option for a remake. Cinema. Big cinema.” Colin Firth is the only leading man he can think of for Maxim. And Mrs Danvers? “Doing fantasy trip, you’ve got to have a Meryl Streep. Or Glenn Close, she’d be good.” And will the Thirties setting remain? Browning pauses to consider a modern take. “You can’t really set it today. You wouldn’t have butlers today, would you? Unless you’re a footballer. Wayne Rooney, you rang m’lord?” Browning buckles over with laughter, drowning out the gulls.

“No, you couldn’t do it like that.” Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier - Rebecca Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier 1940's rEBECCA bY DAPHNE DU MAURIER The novel starts off with a nameless narrator that is dreaming about a mansion named Manderley. The story goes on to tell how the narrator and her husband are traveling hotel to hotel in Europe. The narrator then begins to tell us a story how her and her husband Maxim met. Maxim and the heroine meet in Monte Carlo when the narrator is traveling as a companion to a friend. Her and Maxim fall in love and marry. Maxim and the heroine then move to the mansion named Manderley. Everything about the Manderley is Rebecca, Maxim’s wife that died the year before in a drowning accident. The house staff seemed guarded towards the new Mrs. Maxim de Winter. Especially the housekeeper named Mrs. Danvers. Mrs. Danvers even goes as far as telling the heroine to wear a certain costume to a ball at Manderley. The same costume Rebecca had worn the year before. The heroine fells over whelmed by the comparison to Rebecca.

The heroine feels like to can never live up to the memories of Rebecca. She also feels like Maxim is not in love with her and is still mourning the death of his wife. At the climax of the novel Maxim reveals that he killed Rebecca and that he never loved her. He claims that he killed her because she was pregnant from another man and wanted to Manderley left to her child. In the end Maxim is not arrested for the murder of Rebecca because her death is considered a suicide. Maxim and the heroine finally escape the memories of Rebecca when the Manderley is destroyed in a fire. REVIEWS By Joanna Daneman HALL OFFAME TOP 10 REVIEWER VINE™ VOICE A young, naive woman who is the paid companion of an obnoxious rich woman is taken along to Monte Carlo. While she smarts under the rudeness and gauche behavior of her employer, she meets the dark, handsome widower Max de Winter. What follows is a love story and a ghost story of a woman haunted by the powerful presence of the former mistress of Manderley. We never learn the name of the heroine as she marries Max, moves into the rigid but elegant life at Manderley and tangles with Mrs.

Danvers, Manderley's fearsome housekeeper. What unfolds is not only a mystery but a story of obsessions and evil. The end is a shock. Du Maurier created an unforgettable atmosphere of decaying beauty, frightening spirits and horror mixed with love and death. If you haven't read this, I am envious. You get to experience it for the first time. 5 out of 5 stars Unforgettable, July 26, 2012 By Laura Lanik "BookSnob" (St. Paul, MN USA) This review is from: Rebecca (Paperback) The new Mrs. Max De Winter (who shall remain nameless) can't wait to begin her life as a young bride and newcomer to the renowned Manderley mansion on the Cornish coast. When she arrives she is put off by the housekeeper Mrs. Danvers, who is still devoted to Max's deceased first wife, Rebecca. If you visit the mansion of Manderley you will not find Rebecca there. You will find her spirit as she roams the hall and haunts the walls. The second Mrs. De Winter walks in Rebecca's shadow as she gets to know her husband and her surroundings. Rebecca and Mrs.

De Winter are opposites, one shy and quiet, the other talkative and vivacious. Of course, the current wife feels she pales in comparison to the first. Evil is lurking in unexpected places as the house tries to keep its secrets and Mrs. De Winter is being pushed to her limit.Reading Rebecca for the first time is a unique and satisfying experience. The reader reaches a point in the book of shocked contentment and the book becomes an unstoppable page turner where you just aren't sure what will happen next. De Maurier does an excellent job of setting up the mystery, the suspense and the romance and when combined with a house that is a formidable character and with the nervousness of the nameless narrator, you have a winning combination. Rebecca will make the reader want to stay up all night reading under a blanket, holding a flashlight. Rebecca is a timeless Gothic masterpiece. From the first famous sentence, "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.", to its last, Rebecca is unforgettable. A book to read again and again.

Reviews found on Amazon.com Book Review: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier - Books: A true story Books: A true story Book Review: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier June 9, 2015 Source: Purchased Working as a lady's companion, the heroine of Rebecca learns her place. Her future looks bleak until, on a trip to the South of France, she meets Max de Winter, a handsome widower whose sudden proposal of marriage takes her by surprise. She accepts, but whisked from glamorous Monte Carlo to the ominous and brooding Manderley, the new Mrs de Winter finds Max a changed man. And the memory of his dead wife Rebecca is forever kept alive by the forbidding housekeeper, Mrs Danvers... Not since Jane Eyre has a heroine faced such difficulty with the Other Woman. An international bestseller that has never gone out of print, Rebecca is the haunting story of a young girl consumed by love and the struggle to find her identity. Short and Sweet Version This passionate, gothic romance will appeal to people who loved Jane Eyre. It’s a thoughtful, beautifully written novel about honesty and finding yourself.

Jessica Thinks Too Much Version The setting of Rebecca draws you in with it’s beautiful but haunting mansion and the wonderful, vivid descriptions of it. The writing in this whole novel is just beautiful. A lilac had mated with a copper beech, and to bind them yet more closely to one another the malevolent ivy, always an enemy to grace, had thrown her tendrils about the pair and made them prisoners. – Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca (p. 3) The voice of the nameless main character was lovely to read. She was honest but naive which gave her a charming, sweet quality that I liked. This quote is a good example of it. She’s not being snide or sarcastic but simply honest. I wonder what my life would be today, if Mrs. Van Hopper had not been a snob. Funny to think that the course of my existence hung like a thread upon that quality of hers. – Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca (p. 12) Here’s another great example of the main character’s simple, sweet honesty and I kind of agree with her sentiments.

I believe in being honest all the time, but I’ve also learned the value of keeping my mouth shut when my blunt honesty isn’t needed. “Yes, according to the letter I got this morning. [Grandmother] won’t stay long. You’ll like her, I think. She’s very direct, believes in speaking her mind. No humbug at all. If she doesn’t like you she’ll tell you so, to your face.” I found this hardly comforting, and wondered if there was not some virtue in the quality of insincerity. -Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca (p. 89) Rebecca reminded me a little of Downton Abbey since the setting and politeness are so important in both. The passion in this gothic novel reminded me a lot of Jane Eyre. I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say. – Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca (p. 37) I found the writing so thoughtful. I liked this quote because it’s such a Harry Potter way to keep track of memories.

I think of memories like movies and pictures, but memories as scents sounds like something Snape would do. “If only there could be an invention,” I said impulsively, “that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.” -Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca (p. 40) The narrative plays a lot with time. It jumps around a lot to show how time can speed up and slow down. I don’t usually like jumpy narratives like that, but it worked really well with the themes in this novel. Rebecca is actually the dead first wife of Maxim, whom the main character marries. The main character is constantly being compared to Rebecca and how she did things and how pretty she was etc. I kept getting this feeling that Rebecca was not as great as everyone made her out to seem. But the way every thing was worded so politely, our poor, naive main character couldn’t see that people actually didn’t like Rebecca. Instead of the compliment the comparisons could have been, she took them as her not being good enough.

I could see that Rebecca probably wasn’t a saint even though the main character couldn’t, which made it all the more fun to read. This has nothing to do with the story, but I like tangents especially if they are gross and funny. When I read Julie and Julia, the author talked about making chicken in aspic. Aspic is basically chunky, meat flavored Jell-o that is served cold. I was horrified along with the author of Julie and Julia to think that people actually ATE that. It couldn’t be true! And then I saw chicken in aspic mentioned in Rebecca. Ew, it is true. Tangent over. The main character and her husband have the same fatal flaw–they couldn’t stand up for themselves and for the truth. It drove me nuts but maybe that’s the point of the story. The truth would have set them free so quickly and easily but the good manners of the time didn’t allow truth–only politeness. Another flaw about this novel that people might not like is the fact that the main character seems very passive. She is so passive that it almost becomes ridiculous. But it makes it so awesome when she finally does stand up for herself.

It also reminds me that I need to remember to do that more often in my own life. I wondered how many people there were in the world who suffered, and continued to suffer, because they could not break out from their own web of shyness and reserve, and in their blindness and folly built up a great distorted wall in front of them that hid the truth. – Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca (p. 309) If you’ve heard people talk about this book, you will almost always hear about the abrupt ending. And it is. But at the same time this whole novel is told in a flashback so when you to get to the end and it suddenly ends, you still know what happens next because what happens next is actually at the beginning of the novel. Which do you think is more important – truth or politeness? This novel points out the strengths of both. Truth can be very freeing, but at the same time politeness and considering others feelings is important, too.

It reminds me of that robot in Interstellar where he’s only 90% honest because “absolute honesty isn’t always the most diplomatic nor the safest form of communication with emotional beings.” Truth is much more powerful and I think that’s why I’m afraid of it sometimes. Living with Rebecca | Books | The Guardian Fiction Living with Rebecca Sally Beauman has written a companion novel to Daphne du Maurier's 1938 classic Rebecca. She explains why she felt compelled to give du Maurier's silent heroine a voice, and describes the strange sensation of being haunted by a fictional character. Haunted by Rebecca: Sally Beauman Sally Beauman Wednesday 12 September 2001 07.29 EDT First published on Wednesday 12 September 2001 07.29 EDT Share on Messenger Close How do books begin? Where do they come from? This is a question novelists are always being asked - and I've always found it difficult to answer. In my own case, usually, I start to see scenes, or hear voices. I get glimpses of a character, or a situation, and I know they may lead the way to the next book.

They usually come to me as I'm approaching the end of the previous novel, and they're always shadowy and elusive, like the snatches of a dream. But my new novel Rebecca's Tale had a very different gestation. When it's published this September, it will be nearly seven years since I first thought of it - and seven years is a very long time to be pregnant. It will be a relief, finally, to give birth. As the title indicates, my book is linked to Daphne du Maurier's 1938 classic novel, Rebecca. But it is not, and was never intended to be, a sequel. On the whole, I dislike and distrust sequels, and those that I've read have always been pale shadows of the original. It can be read by those who know Rebecca intimately, and by those who have never read du Maurier's book (and for them, there's a treat in store). In other words, my novel is deeply indebted to du Maurier's but also, I hope, free and independent of it. We certainly return to Manderley, but we look at that dark and resonant fictional domain from a very different angle, and there are some surprises in store.

I'd always been deeply interested in du Maurier's work, and I've always felt it had been much misunderstood and misinterpreted. Du Maurier herself resented the tag 'romantic novelist', which attached itself to her during her lifetime, and still obstinately adheres now: she felt it was unjust - and I agree with her. Some of her novels may fall within the romance category, but Rebecca, I believe, does not. If anything, it is an anti-romance - a clever, cunning and subversive attack on the very genre to which it would be consigned. Yet at the time of publication, that aspect of the novel was ignored, and the novel's ambivalences remain relatively uninvestigated to this day. Why? It was when I first began to ask myself that question that the seeds of my own Rebecca's Tale were sown. It was late in 1993, and I was writing an article about du Maurier, and Rebecca, for New Yorker magazine. The more closely I looked at the book, the more fascinated I became. Du Maurier's publisher, Victor Gollancz, had received the manuscript with jubilation.

He predicted it would be a huge bestseller (and of course he was correct; Rebecca has never been out of print since). In his view, it was "an exquisite love story" - and he duly promoted it as such. In the run-up to publication, du Maurier's was the sole dissenting voice. She feared the novel was too dark to win popular readership; she saw it, she told Gollancz, as "grim". I think she was right. I also think (and du Maurier was too modest to make such claims) Rebecca is a brilliant, astonishing and prescient novel. You could argue that, in Mrs de Winter, the famously 'anonymous' second wife who tells the story, she created the first unreliable narrator in popular fiction. De Winter is a narrator so convincing and so persuasive that most readers never look beyond the gaucheries of her prose, and never notice the devices du Maurier uses to undermine it. Certainly, reviewers leapt to the assumption that the narrator's views and the author's were one and the same. Examine Rebecca closely, and you begin to see how wrong they were.

The novel may seem to celebrate the sweet 'feminine' virtues embodied in the second Mrs de Winter - obedience, modesty, sexual inexperience, naivety, a willingness to conform to male ideas as to suitable female or wifely behaviour - but does it actually do that? No. The woman who rises triumphant from the novel is Rebecca, the disobedient and profoundly transgressive first wife. That she does so is an extraordinary technical feat on du Maurier's part. Rebecca is dead when the novel commences; she neither speaks nor appears in it; she is the antithesis of conventional female virtue, yet she burns the imagination. Vengeful, rebellious, indestructible and superb, she rises from the dead to avenge herself on the husband who has killed her. She destroys him, his house and the entire social structure he represents - and, like the woman in Sylvia Plath's poem who boasts 'I rise with my red hair/And I eat men like air', she achieves a terrifying, mythic stature. This female avatar is dangerous - and she haunts the reader long after the last page is turned. It was then, writing my New Yorker article, that I first began to imagine her story.

How would it be if one altered the camera angle, and looked at events at Manderley from the first wife's point of view? I thought of Jean Rhys's fascinating novel Wide Sargasso Sea, which tells the story of Bertha Rochester's early life, and rescues her from the madwoman's attic to which Charlotte Bronte confined her in Jane Eyre. Du Maurier's novel, of course, has many deliberate echoes of Bronte's. So I wondered, what would one discover if one looked at Manderley, that quintessential male domain, from Rebecca's point of view? In 1938, it would have been very difficult for a novelist to do that, certainly a novelist like du Maurier, who was aiming at a wide readership. The proprieties of her time had to be observed; if she intended to celebrate Rebecca (and I think she did), she could not do so openly: she was forced to take a covert approach. There are no such restrictions now. So who was Rebecca? Where did she come from? Was she the unprincipled and promiscuous woman that her gentleman husband claimed - or something other?

Du Maurier deliberately occludes Rebecca's past; she gives only the tiniest of hints, hidden away in the narrative - but that was fine, from my point of view. It meant I was free to invent, free to imagine. And from the moment I finished writing the New Yorker article, that was what I began to do. Time passed, however. I was working on other novels, and I pushed Manderley to the back of my mind. Then, some three years ago now, I was invited to speak at the du Maurier festival in Cornwall, and while there met du Maurier's son, Christian Browning. I talked to him at unpardonable length about my Rebecca ideas; he listened with generosity and patience and finally (I'll always be grateful to him for this leap of faith) he turned to me and said, "If it interests you that much, why don't you do it?" The next day, electric with nerves, I took the train back to London. I thought about the book that would become Rebecca's Tale the entire way. By the time I arrived at Paddington, some four hours later, I had the entire shape of the book blocked out in my mind.

I knew I wanted multiple narrators, so the text was destabilised and no one character could be regarded as the repository of narrative truth. I knew I wanted the book to have a gender divide, so it was split fifty-fifty, male/female, at its heart. I knew that, honouring du Maurier's novel, this book should ask questions rather than provide pat answers. And I knew that, if I was to make it work as it could and should work, I had to find a voice for Rebecca herself: if I didn't do that, and do it convincingly, the book was stillborn. It is for others to decide if I've been successful in that aim. All I can say is that to write in Rebecca's voice was an extraordinary experience - one of the strangest episodes I can recall. I usually write 'cold' - very cold. I like to be distanced from my material. I write, and rewrite, endlessly, circling my subject matter in a slow, crab-like way. When I came to write the 'Rebecca' section of this book, none of that pertained.

All I knew when I began was that this voice had to come from the very edge; I had to push it as far as I dared. So I started - and I found I was writing fast, so fast that it felt like taking dictation. At times, I felt I was struggling to keep up - and that was both exhilarating and unnerving. It's not something that's ever happened to me before; I don't expect it to happen again - nor am I sure I would want it to do so. That experience can't be explained. You could call it a haunting, I suppose, or a possession. But one of the central concerns of Rebecca's tale is suppression - the ways in which, even today, the male viewpoint and the male voice, tends to dominate, while the female, the soprano voice, is drowned out by the swelling chorus of bass and baritone. That's as true, one might suggest, of literature as it is of - say - politics. So perhaps that's why it felt as if Rebecca grabbed her chance at an aria; she'd been written out, or silenced, too long.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier – Books of Amber Add it: Goodreads Rating: Working as a lady's companion, the heroine of Rebecca learns her place. Her future looks bleak until, on a trip to the South of France, she meets Max de Winter, a handsome widower whose sudden proposal of marriage takes her by surprise. She accepts, but whisked from glamourous Monte Carlo to the ominous and brooding Manderley, the new Mrs de Winter finds Max a changed man. And the memory of his dead wife Rebecca is forever kept alive by the forbidding housekeeper, Mrs Danvers... Not since Jane Eyre has a heroine faced such difficulty with the Other Woman. An international bestseller that has never gone out of print,Rebecca is the haunting story of a young girl consumed by love and the struggle to find her identity. So Lauren and I are doing this Epic Rec thing and this was her January pick for me :’) Rebecca is narrated by a female character so boring she’s never given a name (legit, at no point do we learn her name because she is about as interesting as wallpaper) but don’t let that put you off because this is an amazing novel.

As you might have guessed, Rebecca is actually about a woman long since dead; the narrator is haunted by Rebecca’s presence throughout the novel. The novel begins by introducing to our boring narrator living her boring life until ~love~. The mysterious, recently bereaved Max De Winter and our narrator fall into a courtship that ends in marriage; after their honeymoon, De Winter and his new wife return to his home, Manderley. The large, brooding English house – famous across the English countryside – is a character in and of itself, bringing a sinister and hostile presence to the narrative. Our narrator is super overwhelmed by her duties as a wife because she is rubbish at everything and clashes with the housekeeper, Mrs Danvers, who basically hates her on sight *claps gleefully* As the novel unfolds, our narrator becomes more paranoid and upset about Rebecca’s presence in her life, not least because everyone ever can’t help but compare the two. We learn more and more about Rebecca are secrets are revealed, leading up to a rather brilliant climax. The characters in this novel are so well-written, each one adding something unique to the narrative.

Max de Winter is a brooding, angry character full of secrets while Mrs Danvers is an extraordinarily sinister phantom, malevolent and unhinged. What I really enjoyed about this novel though is how our narrator is ostensibly not the main character – just as Gatsby is the character focused on most despite Carroway narrating The Great Gatsby, Rebecca is the character that is the most important and it is her who controls and manipulates the narrative; our narrator is by default unreliable because she knows nothing, thereby presenting us with a story that is far different underneath than on the surface. Du Maurier is exceptional at writing about the Other Woman, and as a feminist text Rebecca is brilliant at what it does. The characters’ relationships with each other are also fascinating – Mrs Danvers’ devotion to Rebecca is layered in subtext (it is worth noting that Du Maurier was bisexual and worked out many of her frustrations in her novels; Rebecca is no exception); De Winter’s relationships with both his wives reveal much about his character as well as making a very strong statement about patriarchal oppression.

The relationship between Rebecca and our narrator is obviously the one given most importance in the text and it’s fascinating because the two characters are so different; they represent the duality that exists in all women – our narrator struggles with Rebecca because she is the angrier personality, the woman who refused to kneel to social expectations while the former only wishes to conform. This is a brilliant novel and one that is definitely worth reading. We plan on harassing Amber into reading it at some point *nods* Classic by a Woman Author Maximillian de Winter in Rebecca NEXT Character Analysis Maxim is totally gothic. He's a prudish, brooding figure with sinister secrets, whose temper is always on the verge of erupting. He's simultaneously a tortured soul and a calculating arch-manipulator. At forty-two, he's handsome, wealthy, and the proud owner of Manderley, a huge estate with a castle-like mansion. Maxim would be right at home in an Edgar Allan Poe story or a Brontë novel. Maxim escapes official justice for murdering his wife Rebecca, whom he believes to be pregnant with another man's child. While his murderous act defines Maxim for many readers, we don't learn about it until late in the book.

At that point, we've already built up some sympathy for him. Our early view of Maxim is mostly through the eyes of his second wife, known only as Mrs. de Winter, and she's head over heels in love with him. We think Maxim belongs in a long line of fictional folks characterized by a dual nature, like Harvey Dent/Two Face, or Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde. Within such characters, both good and evil are at war, and repressed desires are always bubbling up to the surface. Nothing to Hide So, we compared Maxim to Two Face and Dr. Jekyll . Both of those guys change back and forth between two very different appearances. Maxim has this capacity as well, but it's much more subtle. Mr. de Winter himself isn't even aware of it. In fact, when the topic of the costume ball comes up, Maxim claims that he never puts on a costume. Um, seriously? He does seem perfectly comfortable in his own skin and is at ease in most situations. Yet, he does change, when he's angry, excited, or retreating inward. When Maxim sees Mrs. de Winter wearing the same costume Rebecca wore, Mrs.

de Winter describes his facial transformation: "His eyes were the only living things in the white mask of his face" (16.246). When she later joins him at the ball, dressed in regular clothes, she sees that "[h]is face [is] a mask, his smile [is] not his own" (17.111). There's your costume for you, Max. When Colonel Julyan eats with Frank and the de Winters, the topic of the costume ball (which Julyan attended) comes up. We think a snippet from the conversation is revealing: Frank: "It's a universal instinct of the human species, isn't it, that desire to dress up in some sort of disguise?" Maxim: "I must be very inhuman, then." Colonel Julyan: "It's natural, I suppose, […] for all of us to wish to look different. We are all children in some ways." (22.139-141, speaker inserted by Shmoop) Frank and Colonel Julyan seem to suggest that role playing is a healthy, perhaps even necessary outlet for our desires: maybe dressing up as someone else helps us work out our issues.

But since he married Rebecca, Maxim's entire life is a disguise – happily married man, bereaved widower, contented newlywed, confidant, together, utterly successful. The disguise is both what he wants the world to see, and what he wishes was actually true. Faust? Dr. Faust and Dr. Faustus stories have been around since at least the 1500s. They use the man-sells-soul-to-the devil motif to explore the human condition. Christopher Marlowe 's play The Tragicall History of Dr. Faustus and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's Faust: A Tragedy are the most famous and influential examples. The basic story is that Dr. Faustus trades his soul to the devil, called Mephastophilis or Mephostopheles, for forbidden knowledge. In Rebecca, Maxim describes Rebecca as his devil, his Mephastopheles. Maxim, Mrs. de Winter, and even Mrs. Danvers refer to Rebecca as "the devil" several times. During Maxim's confession he suggests that Rebecca, as the devil, drove him mad.

He says, "It doesn't make for sanity, does it, living with the devil." (20.38). Now check out what he says after that: "[Rebecca] made a bargain with me up there, on the side of the precipice […] 'I'll look after your precious Manderley for you, make it the most famous show-place in all the country, if you like […]. They'll say we are the luckiest, happiest, handsomest couple in all England. What a leg-pull, Max! […] what a God-damn triumph!'" Maxim even quotes Rebecca as saying "God-damn" to emphasize his vision of her as a devil. If Maxim is telling the truth, that means he stayed trapped in an unhappy marriage for years, in order to make Manderley what he thinks he wants it to be. But like all Faustian heroes, he learns that the price he pays for getting what he wants is the inability to enjoy his prize. A big difference between the Faust stories and Rebecca is that in those stories, the devil is actually the devil, a supernatural being who can't be conquered. Here, the so-called devil is the victim of a hideous murder.

Her killer is demonizing her, to make his crime seem acceptable to both himself and his new wife. Othello? "All married men with lovely wives are jealous, aren't they? And some of 'em just can't help playing Othello. They're made that way. I don't blame them. I'm sorry for them." (23.157) Spurred on by these lines from Favell, readers and critics often compare Maxim to Othello , star of William Shakespeare's famous tragedy. Othello murders his wife Desdemona in a fit of jealousy when he mistakenly believes she's unfaithful to him. To hear Maxim tell it, his murder of Rebecca (who was, it seems, unfaithful) has nothing to do with jealousy. He claims he's never loved her or wanted her, but puts up with her to avoid the shame of divorce and to preserve Manderley. He shows no remorse for killing her. Othello, on the other hand, loved Desdemona deeply and bitterly regrets his crime. There are a couple similarities, though: Othello, it's often speculated, never had sex with Desdemona before he killed her.

It's unlikely that Maxim and Rebecca never had sex, but it's very likely they didn't have much of it. In Othello's case, the jealousy is compounded by the fact that Othello believes another man takes his new wife's virginity. In Maxim's case, sexual frustration, distinct from jealousy, might be an issue. Maxim and Othello are also both driven by misinformation and lies. Iago (using some Mrs. Danvers style maneuvers) whips up Othello's jealousy and leads Othello to believe Desdemona is cheating. In Rebecca, Rebecca herself becomes the Iago figure, flaunting her affairs, and, finally, lying about being pregnant with another man's child, who she plans to pass off as Maxim's to spite him. In any case, comparing Maxim with Othello is a good opportunity for us to think about jealousy and whether it applies to Maxim. Could it be that Maxim was actually in love with Rebecca? Was he foaming with jealousy at the thought of other men enjoying her? Was he furious at the thought of having to look at another man's child all his life? Or, did Maxim come to think of Rebecca as a total monster because of all the awful things she did?

A Changed Man Whatever we knew about Maxim at Manderley, we know now is completely different. Take a look at this passage, where Mrs. de Winter describes how she can tell when Maxim is remembering the past: I can tell by the way he will look lost and puzzled […] all expression dying away from his dear face […] and in its place a mask will form […] formal and cold, beautiful still but lifeless. He will fall to smoking cigarette after cigarette, not bothering to extinguish them, and the glowing stubs will lie around on the ground like petals. He will talk quickly and eagerly about nothing at all, snatching at any subject as a panacea to pain. (2.3) This "mask" sounds familiar. Mrs. de Winter describes this look to us too many times to count throughout the story. But Maxim talking "quickly and eagerly"? That doesn't sound like the self-assured well-spoken chap we know. So what has changed to make him seem more like a patient than a mogul? The "glowing stubs" give us a hint. Also, think back to Maxim's confession to Mrs. de Winter. What has always been most important to Maxim?

Let's ask him: "I put Manderley first, before anything else" (20.44). So, Manderley burning (especially if people burned with it) might be the worst blow Maxim could take. In losing Manderley he loses the thing he loves the most. Now, he doesn't care what burns – he drops his "glowing stubs" everywhere. The passage also reveals that Mrs. de Winter is still thinking in terms of Rebecca: the glowing stubs remind her of "petals" like the azalea petals on the ground in the Happy Valley, petals that smell like Rebecca. It looks like she may have won, after all.

Question: Max de Winter is a fictional character in which novel by Daphne du Maurier?
Answer: Rebecca